6
Starkad rotated thrice more. Then the onslaught came.
Flandry was in Ujanka. The principal seaport of Kurijsoviki stood on Golden Bay, ringed by hills and slashed by lithe broad brown Pechaniki River. In the West Housing the Sisterhood kept headquarters. Northward and upward, the High Housing was occupied by the homes of the wealthy, Each nestled into hectares of trained jungle where flowers and wings and venomous reptiles vied in coloring. But despite her position—not merely captain of the Archer but shareholder in a kin-corporation owning a whole fleet, and speaker for it among the Sisterhood—Dragoika lived in the ancient East Housing, on Shiv Alley itself.
“Here my mothers dwelt since the town was founded,” she told her guest. “Here Chupa once feasted. Here the staircase ran with blood on the Day of the Gulch. There are too many ghosts for me to abandon.” She chuckled, deep in her throat, and gestured around the stone-built room, at furs, carpets, furnishings, books, weapons, bronze vases and candelabra, goblets of glass and seashell, souvenirs and plunder from across a quarter of the planet. “Also, too much stuff to move.”
Flandry glanced out the third-floor window. A cobbled way twisted between tenements that could double as fortresses. A pair of cowled males slunk by, swords drawn; a drum thuttered; the yells and stampings and metal on metal of a brawl flared brief but loud.
“What about robbers?” he asked.
Ferok grinned. “They’ve learned better.” He sprawled on a couch whose curves suggested a ship. Likewise did his skipper and Iguraz, a portly grizzled male who had charge of Seatraders’ Castle. In the gloom of the chamber, their eyes and jewelry seemed to glow. The weather outside was bright but chill. Flandry was glad he had chosen to wear a thick coverall on his visit. They wouldn’t appreciate Terran dress uniform anyhow.
“I don’t understand you people,” Dragoika said. She leaned forward and sniffed the mild narcotic smoke from a brazier. “Good to see you again, Dommaneek, but I don’t understand you. What’s wrong with a fight now and then? And—after personally defeating the vaz-Siravo—you come here to babble about making peace with them!”
Flandry turned. The murmur of his airpump seemed to grow in his head. “I was told to broach the idea,” he replied.
“But you don’t like it yourself?” Iguraz wondered. “Then why beneath heaven do you speak it?”
“Would you tolerate insubordination?” Flandry said.
“Not at sea,” Dragoika admitted. “But land is different.”
“Well, if nothing else, we vaz-Terran here find ourselves in a situation like sailors.” Flandry tried to ease his nerves by pacing. His boots felt heavy.
“Why don’t you simply wipe out the vaz-Siravo for us?” Ferok asked. “Shouldn’t be hard if your powers are as claimed.”
Dragoika surprised Flandry by lowering her tendrils and saying, “No such talk. Would you upset the world?” To the human: “The Sisterhood bears them no vast ill will. They must be kept at their distance like any other dangerous beasts. But if they would leave us alone there would be no occasion for battle.”
“Perhaps they think the same,” Flandry said. “Since first your people went to sea, you have troubled them.”
“The oceans are wide. Let them stay clear of our islands.”
“They cannot. Sunlight breeds life, so they need the shoals for food. Also, you go far out to chase the big animals and harvest weed. They have to have those things too.” Flandry stopped, tried to run a hand through his hair, and struck his helmet. “I’m not against peace in the Zletovar myself. If nothing else, because the vaz-Merseian would be annoyed. They started this arming of one folk against another, you know. And they must be preparing some action here. What harm can it do to talk with the vaz-Siravo?”
“How do so?” Iguraz countered. “Any Toborko who went below’d be slaughtered out of hand, unless you equipped her to do the slaughtering herself.”
“Be still,” Dragoika ordered. “I asked you here because you have the records of what ships are in, and Ferok because he’s Dommaneek’s friend. But this is female talk.”
The Tigeries took her reproof in good humor. Flandry explained: “The delegates would be my people. We don’t want to alarm the seafolk unduly by arriving in one of our own craft. But we’ll need a handy base. So we ask for ships of yours, a big enough fleet that attack on it is unlikely. Of course, the Sisterhood would have to ratify any terms we arrived at.”